


A Sense of Touch

by SecondSilk



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Dreams, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-02
Updated: 2010-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondSilk/pseuds/SecondSilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House dreams of touching Wilson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sense of Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by Topaz_Eyes

House sometimes dreams of touching Wilson. These aren't day dreams, or the detailed kinds of dreams teenage boys have about the girls they punch in the playground. They are actual dreams, amorphous and twisted up with the imagery of the day. He dreams he's in an empty lecture theatre, von Lieberman's graph on the whiteboard and Wilson glaring at him from the stage. He says something, asks a question he'd never risk in real life and even now can't find the words for. Wilson stops speaking and begins to climb the stairs. It's a theatre, now, a memory of a night at an off-off-Broadway play. Wilson sits beside him and they are pressed too close together. Their bodies seems to merge and House can't tell where he ends and Wilson begins. All he knows is that he is touching Wilson, his hands are finding bare skin and Wilson is kissing his cheek.

House turns into the kiss and their lips find each other. House is sinking into Wilson, or swallowing him whole, and in the nature of dreams he's left washed up on the beach he almost drowned on when he was six. His mother is there, staring at him anxiously, salt water dripping from her hair onto his face. He brushes her off as he pushes himself to his feet. He takes three even paces towards his motorbike and falls onto his living room carpet.

This time Wilson is there to catch him. Even in his dream House snorts at the implications of that subconscious thought. He wants to push Wilson away. He wants to make some great speech sending all Wilson's platitudes about making an independent life back at him. He wants Wilson to leave so he can take some pills and play ridiculously happy songs on his piano. But House's control over his dream world never extends to dream-Wilson. Wilson is still there, holding House up and holding on to him. They fold into one another, like an origami figure or an Escher drawing, and it makes House dizzy.

It is late when he wakes. The room feels as though it's spinning, but only because he knows that it can't be him moving. He can't move. And the disorientation stops him even working out how long it might be before his leg makes both moving and keeping still difficult. The colours of his dream are draining away. But he can still hear the crash of waves and feel of Wilson sliding into the seat next to him. He sighs as he finally pushes himself out of bed. He thinks that it might be a good day.


End file.
